Do What It Takes
by MaeBees
Summary: "There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others" In the Chamber of Secrets, things go differently. Ginny-centric time-travel AU. Ginny wishes herself back to the beginning of the first war and grows up with a desire for vengeance, a different perspective, and help from unexpected quarters. She also finds a new set of overprotective, older brothers.
1. Prologue

I just want people to stop acting like they know everything about me.

 _I can show you secrets no one else knows._

I want to prove them wrong.

 _I can teach you extraordinary things._

I want to do something new, something none of them have ever done before!

 _Let me help you. Let me in…_

-*o*-

Everything was dark. She could hear some kind of struggle just outside the limits of her perception. Her senses were vague; she was aware of her body, but only barely. She felt weak.

 _Think, think. What's the last thing you remember?_

Tom _. He was showing you something. But_ what _?_

Ginny's mind felt sore, like her legs after the first time she rode a broom. It wasn't damaged necessarily but strained, stretched. She forced herself to focus, to remember. The lack of sensory input, although still concerning, made it easier to concentrate. Something was very, very wrong, and Ginny hadn't survived with six older brothers by ignoring her instincts.

 _Focus! You wrote in the diary. Tom offered to help, what next?_

With an almost physical heave of concentration and panic, the dam in Ginny's mind cracked.

 _The roosters! And . . . a bathroom? Myrtle?_

Encouraged by the slight trickle of memory, Ginny shoved harder against the block in her mind. Her mental muscles were screaming with fatigue, but she couldn't stop now, she had to _remember._ She was so close to getting what she wanted. She could practically feel the cracks widening, the barrier giving way. In the back of her mind, she could hear her mother's voice cautioning against giving in to her anger, telling her she had to be careful because she was the seventh child. She'd never understood that particular advice; you needed two generations of seventh children to be special. Now, she hoped there was something to her mum's warnings, dug down for all the rage she had, and _pushed_ it at the wall.

With a shudder, the block finally crumbled and vanished, leaving a strange emptiness in its wake. Quickly, the void filled with hidden memories from the past year.

 _Tom explaining her potions homework._

 _Tom teaching her new hexes._

 _Tom telling her to kill the roosters._

 _Tom giving her instructions to avoid Filch in the halls._

 _Tom showing her what to write on the wall._

 _Tom making her walk to Myrtle's bathroom._

 _Tom forcing her mouth move in shapes that seemed impossible._

 _Tom gloating about his plans._

 _Tom sharing his "stroke of genius" because he'd gone so long without "suitable company."_

The memories flashed by, finding their correct places in her mind, and she wondered if it was possible to throw up inside your own head. Knowing that she had done these things, that Tom had made her do them, that she had trusted him, was so nauseating that she was sure she'd find out.

Ginny suddenly recognized the sickly, slimy, and oddly incomplete presence of Tom's soul next to hers now that she knew what the feeling was, and before she fully registered what was happening, she became furious. Every bit of her mind, magic, and soul lit up with incandescent rage against this appalling echo of a wizard and the things he'd forced her to do. As her conscious mind caught up with her instincts, Ginny rode the wave of fury straight towards the repulsive _thing_ that dared try to share her body. She pummeled at it, screamed at it, cursed it, and rejected it with everything she had left. Finally, she felt the bit of Tom flee.

In her exhaustion, Ginny was vaguely aware that the Tom-thing had returned to the diary. If she focused, she could practically feel other bits of him floating around in the world-malevolent presences lying in wait for some other unfortunate soul to stumble across. Just the thought made her want to burn the world like Ron had burned down the shed last summer after finding a nest of spiders.

As she felt herself being pulled down into magical exhaustion, Ginny's last, fervent thought was that she wished she could stop Tom from ever hurting anyone like he'd hurt her. She wanted to throw a wrench in his grand plans before they could properly start. Bastard.

-*o*-

"Young miss is needing to wake up! Miss should not take naps in the bathroom!"

As Ginny peeled her eyes open, she found herself staring directly back into the bright green eyes of a house elf.

"Miss is coming with Gertie to the infirmary, yes miss is."

The elf, Gertie, apparently, prodded Ginny to her feet, and started herding her toward the door. However, before the pair had gone more than five feet, Ginny keeled over again, and this time she stayed down.

"Students is getting lazier and littler every year, they is."


	2. Make a Plan

**A/N: Hello, I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far. I just wanted to say thank you to my beta who I neglected last chapter. RoverMaelstrom, you're a champ, and I appreciate you putting up with my terrible lack of organization. Also, I am genuinely the worst at regular updates, but feedback of** ** _any_** **kind will definitely help. Thank you all for reading!**

 **Bees**

"Gertie is finding her in the ladies' room on the first floor. The young miss is being on the floor by the sinks! Gertie tells miss not to be napping on the floor, but miss is lying back down again!"

"Thank you, Gertie, I appreciate your help. Would you like to be kept informed about the young woman's status?"

"Gertie is far too busy to be worrying about sleepy students, Mistress. Gertie is needing to go back to work."

"I'm sure you're right, Gertie." There was the brisk pop of an elf disapparating. "Now, young lady, how are you feeling?"

Once more, Ginny opened her eyes to a change of scenery. This time she appeared to be lying on a bed in the infirmary. Turning her head cautiously, she took in her surroundings. Same "soothing" taupe curtains, same bright windows, same polished floor, same tang of potions and cleaners, same Madame Pomfrey-or not. Unless she'd had the ultimate spa experience and found the Philosopher's Stone, this was not the same Madame Pomfrey. Maybe a younger cousin or a niece? The matron didn't have any children as far as Ginny knew, but the woman standing by her bedside was a dead ringer for what Pomfrey would've looked like a couple decades ago.

"Er- alright, I suppose?" Ginny said cautiously, "May I ask who you are?"

"My name is Poppy Pomfrey, and I am the new Hogwarts Healer. I could ask the same of you, dear."

Ginny's eyes widened. Either this was a very strange Chamber-induced hallucination, or she was in worse trouble than she thought. In that moment, the only thing that occurred to her was the unstinting trust in Headmaster Dumbledore that had been passed down by six brothers who had all, at some point, turned to the odd old wizard for help of one kind or another. It was almost reflexively that she said, "I need Dumbledore. That is, I need to talk to the Headmaster, if it's quite alright, ma'am."

Madame Pomfrey looked slightly put out, as if she'd been hoping to solve the mystery of this strange, small child herself, but instead she just assured Ginny that she would send for the Headmaster and walked back into her office.

As she waited for the young matron to return, Ginny tried to figure out if she was dreaming or hallucinating. She pinched her arm, and her heart sank when it _hurt_. Next, she tried balancing her wand on the bridge of her nose, and started to panic slightly when it wouldn't stay. Sitting on the crisp bed linens, she wracked her brain for any other test she could attempt. While she was still pondering, the young woman who claimed to be Madame Pomfrey returned, saying, "The Headmaster will be down shortly; he just returned from a trip to the Ministry. In the meantime, why don't you clean yourself up?"

With a brisk flick of her wand, Pomfrey conjured a basin of warm water with a rag, and a large hand mirror on the bed next to Ginny's legs. Automatically, Ginny reached out for the mirror, and realized with a shock that she was still covered in muck from the Chamber. She picked up the rag and started carefully cleaning her face, making sure to wipe away every trace of the mud and slime, as if she could wipe the whole experience away if she got herself clean enough.

When she felt at least more presentable, Ginny set the mirror and rag back down, turned to the matron and said, "Thank you, ma'am," with a tentative smile.

The woman harrumphed and said, "Well, at least you have manners-better than some of the students I see through here."

Pomfrey bustled back into her office, and as one door closed with a click, another swung open at the other end of the room. Startled, Ginny swung her head around to get a better look at the interloper, to see the first reassuring sight since she opened her eyes on the bathroom floor-Headmaster Dumbledore, looking exactly as he had at the welcoming feast eight months ago, although his robes were a slightly less flamboyant shade of purple, and seemed a bit less fanciful than the ones he was usually seen wearing around the castle.

"Hello, my dear girl, Poppy told me you wanted to speak with me? I feel very fortunate that I returned in time to receive her message!"

"Um- yes, sir."

"Well, no need to be frightened," the old wizard reached into the folds of his robe, "Ice mouse?" He asked, producing one of the small, blue candies.

Ginny was startled enough that she took the candy without question, and as she felt it cooling her tongue, she thought about where she should begin the explanation.

"You see, sir, there was a book I found among my school things . . ."

" . . . and then Gertie woke me up in Myrtle's bathroom."

A moment of shocked silence hung in the room.

"Young lady, I think you should come up to my office at once. I believe you told the truth, but minds are tricky things, and I don't want to miss even a single detail of this tale. Come with me. Poppy! The girl is coming with me, trust that I will have her back in no time!"

The old wizard helped Ginny out of the bed as if she was alighting from a fine carriage and whisked away the last of the grime with a wave of his hand. Then, as Madame Pomfrey began to approach with words of protest, Ginny found herself swept away in the wake of Dumbledore's flowing plum robes. They made their way through the castle faster than Ginny could credit, and she soon found herself deposited in a squashy chair in the Headmaster's office with another ice mouse and a cup of tea.

"Now then, before we begin this process, it seems proper to know your name, dear. I didn't ask before because you seemed to recognize me, and I didn't want to alarm you, but I'm afraid I have no idea who you truly are."

Ginny's mouth fell open in a small "o" of confusion.

"Ginny Weasley, sir. Ginevra."

"Ginny. Under ordinary circumstances I would say I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, but that seems a bit off for the current circumstances."

The small witch nodded mutely in agreement.

Dumbledore walked over to an ornate cupboard and returned to his desk with a shallow, metal basin.

"This is a Pensive. It is the most efficient way for me to get the complete story from you without invading your mind through Legilimency, which I imagine would be quite disturbing after the ordeal you've just been through."

Again, Ginny nodded.

"What I will do is temporarily remove the pertinent memories so we can view them in the Pensive. You will still remember the events as they happened, although they will feel distant and removed from your reality. You won't forget anything. Then, when I am finished with my examination, I will have my own factual copy of the events, and return the true memories to you. Does that sound acceptable, Ginny?"

"Yes, sir, but you can look at the memories by yourself. I feel a bit sleepy, and, well-" Ginny trailed off, not sure how to tell this man who didn't know her at all that she would rather die than watch herself succumb to Tom's wiles all over again.

"I see," the old professor said, and the look in his eyes told Ginny he truly did. "In that case, I'll just retrieve the memories, and you can have a bit of a nap while you wait for me to reemerge. Now, I need you to focus on your first memory of the diary . . ."

-*o*-

"Miss Weasley, I've finished."

Ginny snapped out of her stupor, and stared at the Headmaster blearily. He held out a large, glass jar filled with swirling, silver memories, and she accepted it with a small sigh. Then, she poured them into her ear as he'd instructed her-it seemed more pleasant than going up the nose-and shuddered as the memories slipped back to their rightful places.

Giving the girl a moment to collect herself, Dumbledore continued, "There are many problems that will take quite some time for me to work out, but the most pressing issue seems to be that of your identity in this time. You have landed on May 30th 1973, which according to your memories is a full twenty years in your past."

Despite knowing she had travelled back in time, hearing the exact date still felt a bit like expecting one more step in a staircase. Ginny forced herself to keep breathing and remember that knowing the date didn't really make her situation any worse. _After all,_ she thought with a snort, _Tom always said that knowledge is power…_ Shaking off the memory, Ginny returned her focus to the Headmaster.

Fortunately, students are all currently in exams, so one extra first-year in the halls won't be terribly jarring. However, you will need a permanent residence and cover story. Since the Weasleys are both a well known and far flung family, I believe it would be easiest for you to keep your name. Your cover will be that you and your parents, a couple from an obscure branch of the family tree, spent the past year ill with Dragon Pox. While you survived, they, unfortunately, passed on, and you will be staying with an unmarried relative who has always wanted children.

"While the first part of this tale is, obviously, fabricated, the second is true, or will be as soon as I get in touch with Muriel."

Ginny gasped at this, somewhere between intrigued that her batty aunt was on a first name basis with Dumbledore and horrified at the prospect of living with her.

"I take it you know Muriel in your own time?"

"Yes, sir. She's my great aunt."

"Well, here she will be your adoptive mother. We can go over the details of this whole plan later, but for the time being, I should send you back to the infirmary. Exams will be letting out shortly, and Poppy will have my head if I don't return you soon. If you go quickly, you should be able to avoid any interest from your peers."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Ginny scurried back down the unfamiliar staircase and to the infirmary, her head spinning with the new information.

 _Living with Auntie Muriel? Maybe I should've just stayed in the Chamber and waited for someone else to save me..._


	3. Meeting Muriel

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who let me know this chapter uploaded funny. I hope I have the issue fixed, but if not, please let me know. Furthermore, this is unbeta'd because I have no self-restraint, so this chapter will eventually be replaced with a revised version. Remember that your reviews are the thing that make me want to keep writing this story!**

 **Bees**

After a night spent in the infirmary and a hearty breakfast delivered by Gertie, Ginny felt somewhat more of her usual self. She just finished combing her hair into what her mother would've called a "passable" ponytail when Dumbledore swept into the infirmary once again.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley. I hope you slept well."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'm feeling much better today."

"Delightful! You'll need your energy, I'm sure. I got in touch with Muriel last night and she said I should bring you to her townhouse in time for lunch today. I believe she is quite eager to get to know you."

Ginny tried not to pull a face at the thought of Auntie Muriel _wanting_ to see her. As far as Ginny could remember, her great aunt believed that children shouldn't be seen _or_ heard. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and nodded at the Headmaster as if she did this sort of thing every day.

"If you don't have anything pressing to do, we should get going sooner rather than later," Dumbledore consulted a pocket watch. "It's ten o'clock now, and we have a fair bit of walking to do between apparition points. You don't mind side-along, do you?"

She was pretty sure _everyone_ minded side-along apparition, but this didn't seem like the ideal time to bring it up, so Ginny just said, "No, sir," and tried to look like she meant it.

-*o*-

On the walk down to the Hogwarts gates, Ginny finally got up the courage to ask a question that had been niggling at the corner of her mind.

"Headmaster, you said last night that Auntie Muriel was a Weasley, but she was my mum's aunt. I guess Mum never talked much about her, but how can she be my cover as a Weasley if she's actually a Prewett?"

"Ah, an excellent question, Miss Weasley. I assume you know by now that the pureblood wizarding families are all fairly complicated, and because the Weasleys have always tended toward having large families, their history is more complicated than most. However, Muriel will explain everything far better than I will. I'm sure she'll have you studying family trees before the day is out."

Ginny didn't especially want to pore over dusty old books all evening, but the idea of solving this particular mystery outweighed her distaste for extra studying.

The rest of the walk passed in mostly comfortable silence, and soon the Headmaster and Ginny reached the edge of the wards.

Dumbledore extended his elbow and asked, "Are you ready?" with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he knew she wasn't.

Mutely, Ginny reached out and gripped the offered elbow, mentally bracing herself for the sensation of apparition. Several very uncomfortable heartbeats later, she opened her eyes to find herself standing very close to what appeared to be a giant muggle trash can. Dropping Dumbledore's arm, she stepped away from it to examine the rest of her surroundings. As far as Ginny could tell, the Headmaster had brought her to a dingy, unremarkable alley in a muggle city.

"Come along, my dear, we have a bit more walking to do," Dumbledore called from the end of the alley.

Ginny saw that he had transfigured his robes into a muggle suit of the same electric blue, and glanced down at her own clothes. She was wearing her school uniform, so she just took off her outer robe and balled it up under her arm before following Dumbledore out onto the busy street.

As soon as they left the alley, Ginny recognized the city as muggle London. They were not far off from the Leaky Cauldron, but the Headmaster was not taking them to the pub. Instead, it seemed he was heading further into the non-magical part of the city. As they walked, Ginny was too busy taking in all the strange sights to question Dumbledore's navigation. She was staring at a large, loud truck that looked a bit like an elephant and seemed to be removing trash from the street when she nearly ran into Dumbledore's back.

He had stopped in front of a red brick townhouse that seemed to have more windows than walls and a black wrought iron fence protecting the saddest patch of tulips Ginny had ever seen. Dumbledore checked a piece of paper against the number on the front of the building before marching up the steps and jabbing a small button that Ginny was fairly certain her father had called a "doorbell."

A few moments later, the door was opened by a house elf in a freshly pressed pillowcase with "Bing" embroidered on the right shoulder.

"Hello, sir and miss! Mistress is expecting you in the sitting room. You is following Bing, please."

With a short nod, the house elf turned and led them into the house to a parlor that looked out on the street. Looking around the room, Ginny could hardly believe that it belonged to the same woman who was scarcely seen without her pink, feathered hat. The parlor was comfortable and airy, with high ceilings and plenty of light from the large windows. The walls were painted a color Ginny's mum had called "avocado," but the effect was tempered by light wood trim and cream upholstery. While she was still coming to terms with the idea that batty Auntie Muriel lived in a place that looked like a design spread from Witch Weekly, Ginny faced another shock as a witch who looked a lot like her great aunt, but couldn't possibly be the _real_ Auntie Muriel walked into the room. For one thing, this witch wasn't wearing so much as one fur cuff or a single feather, and she didn't look nearly old enough to be Muriel, even twenty years in the past.

"Hello, Albus," the woman said with a smile. "You're right on time. Tippy says lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes, so we have a little time for introductions before we tuck in."

"Excellent! Muriel, this is your great niece Ginevra Weasley. She is Molly Prewett's seventh child with Arthur Weasley. Ginny, this is your great aunt Muriel Weasley. She will, I'm sure help clear the air with regards to your exact degree of relation."

There was a brief pause in which Ginny could practically hear her mum hissing at her to mind her manners before Ginny gave her alleged aunt a small smile and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh, none of that!" Muriel replied immediately. "For one thing, you already know me, and for another, if you met me as extended family it most certainly was _not_ a pleasure!"

Ginny's jaw dropped. Muriel laughed, then hunched over and squinted her eyes.

"Young lady," she said in a croak, "Your hair is an absolute horror, and you'll wrinkle that robe holding it all crunched up like that! Children today have no respect for their belongings, I tell you."

The effect wasn't perfect without the garish accessories and heavy perfume, but Ginny immediately believed that this woman really was her Auntie Muriel. While Ginny was trying to come up with any kind of intelligent response to the witch in front of her, Muriel straightened up and brushed invisible wrinkles out of her robe.

"Come with me," She said, gesturing for her guests to follow. "Lunch will be ready any moment, and I can address all of your questions as we eat, Ginevra. I'm sure you have quite a few."


End file.
